All Poems

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Upon The Bee

© John Bunyan

The bee goes out, and honey home doth bring,
And some who seek that honey find a sting.
Now would'st thou have the honey, and be free
From stinging, in the first place kill the bee.

St. Martin's Summer

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Though flowers have perished at the touch
Of Frost, the early comer,
I hail the season loved so much,
The good St. Martin's summer.

Sonnet. Written In Disgust Of Vulgar Superstition

© John Keats

The church bells toll a melancholy round,
Calling the people to some other prayers,
Some other gloominess, more dreadful cares,
More hearkening to the sermon's horrid sound.

Autumn

© Thomas Ernest Hulme

A touch of cold in the Autumn night -
I walked abroad,
And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge
Like a red-faced farmer.

The Kiss

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore

In arms and policy and books

Prince Victor was a Prince indeed.

The Charm

© Thomas Campion

Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air,

Thrice sit thou mute in this enchanted chair,

When winter shuts a fellow in and turns the lock upon his door,
There's nothing else for him to do but sit and dream his bygones o'er.
And then before an open fire he smokes his pipe, while in the blaze
He seems to see a picture show of all his happy yesterdays.
No ordinary film is that which memory throws upon the screen,
But one in which his hidden soul comes out and can be plainly seen.

The Nuts Birthday

© Jessie Pope

When Gilberts birthday came last spring,

Oh! How our brains were racked

Variation On A Theme

© Franklin Pierce Adams

June 30th, 1919

Notably fond of music, I dote on a

On Sr Charles Porter The Chancellours Death

© Thomas Parnell

& tis too true alass! we find, he's gonn,

Virtue from earth a second time is flown,

The Same Old Story

© James Whitcomb Riley

The same old story told again--

The maiden droops her head,

"This year I have seen autumn with new eyes"

This year I have seen autumn with new eyes,
Glimpsed hitherto undreamt of mysteries
In the slow ripening of the town-bred trees;
Horse-chestnut lifting wide hands to the skies;

Song

© Edith Nesbit

Now the Spring is waking,

Very shy as yet,

Hermann And Dorothea - VII. Erato

Joyfully heard the youth the willing maiden's decision,
Doubting whether he now had not better tell her the whole truth;
But it appear'd to him best to let her remain in her error,
First to take her home, and then for her love to entreat her.
Ah! but now he espied a golden ring on her finger,
And so let her speak, while he attentively listen'd:--